


Banquet, Take Two

by kittencaboodle



Series: Snapshots [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Grand Prix Final Banquet, M/M, Other, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-18
Updated: 2016-12-18
Packaged: 2018-09-09 09:34:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8885788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittencaboodle/pseuds/kittencaboodle
Summary: Yurio gets in a little over his head. Shoutout to all the angels who take care of their messy drunk friends.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this after episode 10 at like 3am. I just want to see this year's banquet.

To think it was this time last year that Yuuri gave his childhood idol a lap-dance and asked him to be his coach, all while blackout drunk. Yuuri shuddered at the embarrassing thought—the pictures of him pole dancing with Chris—it was all just too much, even _he_ didn’t know where that pole came from...or maybe he just didn’t remember? Unclear. This time around, he was determined. He would not get drunk. He would not blackout.

So, of course, the moment he saw Phichit; “Hey Yuuri, it’s been a long time since we went to a party together.” He winked, clearly referencing the numerous, ahem, _escapades_ they had together in Detroit. Despite what many may think of Yuuri—a sweet, shy boy who couldn’t possibly be doing anything—Yuuri drank like an _animal_ ; at parties it was often to calm his nerves. But, boy, get a few drinks in him and he is the life of the party. Numerous un-posted pictures on Phichit’s phone are testament to that. 

“Nice try, but I’m not drinking tonight, Phichit. Not after what happened last time.” 

“Aw come on Yuuri, last time you wooed your longtime idol and got yourself a coach that helped you win gold this year!” 

“Yeah, too bad I don’t _remember_ any of it.” 

“You always did have the tendency to blackout.” 

“Yeah because I always drank too much, and you never stopped me.” An old, foggy memory of Phichit yelling _chug, chug, chug, chug,_ like they were frat boys or something washed over him, making him shudder.

“Yeah, we both went a little far back then. But,” he handed him a glass of champagne, “this is celebratory. Besides, one drink won’t hurt. If I remember correctly, you have a tolerance like Celestino.” 

“Well, yeah. Alright, _one_.” From his conversation across the room, Victor shot him a look—a warning, maybe.

Phichit was right; one drink wouldn’t hurt. Besides, from what he heard, these banquets were _dreadfully_ boring—save for last year, which he’d made quite the event, or so he was told. 

“If I'm going to keep up the schmoozing all night, I’m going to need more.” The banquet (thankfully) featured an open bar, which Phichit led a now willing Yuuri to. At the bar who else do they see but JJ, wrapped around his arm candy. “Forget more,” he whispered to Phichit. “I’m going to need something _stronger_.” Phichit laughed as JJ shot them a look. Normally, Yuuri wasn’t one to stoop to another’s level, but the alcohol in his system made him petty. 

Taking another sip of whatever Phichit handed him, Yuuri turned away, only to see a more sobering sight; Yuri Plisetsky at a far table, downing his fifth shot of vodka (as Yuuri inferred from the number small glasses at his elbow). “Oh no.” Reigning in control of his senses (and quickly chugging a bottle of water), Yuuri made his way over to the _clearly underage boy_. Who was serving him alcohol? “Hey, whatcha doing there?” He felt the sudden urge to add ‘sport’ to that, but decided against it. 

He looked up slowly, mouth open, eyes half-lidded, “ _None ~_ of your busi~ness, Piggy-boy.” He both slurred and articulated at the same time. 

“Yurio, how many drinks have you had?” 

“Not enough!” He proclaimed, sticking a finger in the air. He tried to place it on Yuuri’s lips, but missed. “Don’t. Tell. Yakov.” 

“Yurio, stay here. I’m going to get you some water.”

“No!” 

Yuuri knew better than to argue with belligerent drunks. “Alright, just sit tight.” He signaled for Phichit to come over. “Watch him please, I’m going to get water.” 

In the time it took for Yuuri to grab a bottle of water, Phichit and Yurio had both disappeared. Yuuri’s internal dilemma struggled over whether to find them himself or tell someone (namely, Victor) and get help. Not wanting to call any more attention to it, he went on the search for his friends. “Phichit!” 

“I lost him! I swear Yuuri, I was watching him! But he ran away and _hid_ from me. Saying something about how he doesn’t need a babysitter.” 

He sighed. “Let’s go.” 

The banquet hall was crowded, and with Yuri’s short stature, he easily blended in. But after a thorough sweep of the room, they concluded, that he in fact had left, leaving them with a _much_ bigger problem.

“Maybe we should get help.” Phichit suggested, exhausted, and clearly just wanting to enjoy the party. 

“I’ll ask Victor, but I don’t want Yurio getting in trouble for drinking. It could do nothing but hurt him.” 

Yuuri, being the master of social interactions that he is, not so discretely interrupted a conversation with a lovely young woman, who he didn’t know or care about. “May I steal my  _fiancé_ away for a moment, this is important.” He smiled slyly at the woman who backed away. 

“What is it my dear?” Victor had clearly had his fair share of drinks as well. 

“Yurio is drunk and missing.” Blinking a few times, Victor shook his head in an attempt to sober up. “I can’t imagine who was serving him—” Victor suddenly broke eye contact. “You. You were giving Yuri drinks?” 

“He asked, and after everything that happened, I felt like he deserved it. He’ll be fine, we’re Russian.” 

“Have you _seen_ the size of his body? He’s a pixie! Not to mention he’s _fifteen_.” 

“The drinking age in Russia is sixteen.” He pointed out, matter-of-factly, only exasperating Yuuri further. 

“Don’t try to justify this right now! Help me find him! He had at _least_ five shots when I last saw him and could hardly keep his head up!” 

Victor sighed, “We’ll need to work on that tolerance of his.” For the sake of public image Yuuri resisted smacking him.

 

**Meanwhile in a secluded hotel hallway…**

“Take _that!_ ” Right cross. “And _that!_ ” Jab. “And _this!_ ” Uppercut. 

“Yuri?” Yuri jumped at the sudden noise from behind him. “Why are you fighting a plant?”

His angry gaze (previously directed at said fichus) softened at the sight of Otabek. “Beka,” he turned on his heel, taking staggering steps to try and stay upright. He nearly failed before strong arms broke his fall. 

“You’ve been drinking.” 

Yuri looked up at him through half-lidded eyes. “Mmmm,” he attempted to affirm. 

“Come with me.” Otabek wrapped an arm around his waist, keeping him stable while they walked slowly to the nearest couch. He laid Yuri down. 

“We’re missing the party,” He whined. “What if they’re all having fun without me?” His eyes shot open in sudden realization. He was being left out again. 

“Don’t worry. The banquet is always miserable, we’re not missing a thing.” 

“What if they dance again?” 

“Dance?”

“Like last year.” 

“Do you want to dance?” 

Yuri just nodded. 

“We can dance. But first, you have to drink some water, okay?” Otabek bargained; Yuri just nodded. With some help, Yuri was able to sit up (although he fell forward the first time). Otabek helped him tip the water bottle, as Yuri would undoubtedly spill it on himself. 

Yuri grabbed Otabek’s wrist. “Now we can dance.” 

A small smile graced Otabek’s face. “Yes, we can dance.” Provided that he could _stand_. 

Yuri hoisted himself up and held onto Otabek as the room spun around him. “Are we dancing?” His head lolled to the side. 

“Not yet, are you okay?” 

Yuri’s hands went up to hold Otabek’s face in place. “Stop. Stop _moving_.” Regaining his focus, Yuri was determined to dance. “Come.” He spun and danced around, pulling Otabek along with him.

“Slow down, Yuri. You’re going to make yourself sick.” 

He erupted in a fit of drunken giggles, “Beka...” He stumbled to the side. “I’m dizzy.” 

“Okay, here,” He kept Yuri’s balance, holding him up. “Take it slow.”

“The room is spinning, Beka.” 

“Hold on to me. You’re okay. Let’s get you more water.” 

“No! I want to dance!” Yuri placed his hands on Otabek’s shoulders as he swayed on his feet, whether it was his affected balance or an attempt to dance, it wasn’t clear. 

“Yuri, you need to drink water.” He brought him back over to the couch. “Stay here, okay?” 

Yuri nodded as Otabek hastily went to find water. When he returned only minutes later, Yuri had slipped to the floor and was now leaning up against the couch. “Drink this.” 

“Beka…” 

“Yes?” 

He didn’t say anything else, just let his head fall to lean on the taller man’s shoulder. 

“Maybe we should get you back to your room, Yuri.” 

“Nooo, I want to go back to the party.” 

“Are you tired?” 

“No.”

“Can you stand?” 

Bracing himself on the couch, he pushed himself up. In another fit of laughter, he ended up on the floor again. “Where are my feet?” 

“Yuri—” 

“Come.” He grabbed Otabek’s wrist and pulled the unsuspecting man down to the floor in a surprising display of strength. 

“Yuri!” 

“Sh! We’re _hiding_.” 

It dawned on him that someone probably _had_ been watching Yuri, until he snuck away. “We should get you back to Yakov.” 

A look of genuine terror crossed his features. “No! Yakov will be soooo mad!” He laughed again. “Yakov is funny when he’s mad. He looks like a tomato.” By now, Otabek had gotten him to sit up against the couch once more. “Are you mad at me, Beka?” 

“Of course, not.” 

Yuri reached to touch his face. “You’re an angel, Beka.” He tried to ignore it, and suppress the blush, to no avail. 

“Come on, get up.” He hoisted up an  _incredibly_ light Yuri. 

“Where are we going?” He let Yuri go and stepped away. “Hey! Get back here.” 

“Walk to me.” Yuri looked at the floor, it was moving so much. Slowly, Yuri put one foot in front of the other, concentrating hard. “Good. Do you think you can walk back to the banquet?” 

“Hold my hand.” 

“You think you can manage talking to people?" He seemed to have sobered up a little, he wasn’t sure if it was _enough_ though, but Yuri nodded anyway. “Alright come on, there are probably people looking for you.” They interlaced fingers and started walking slowly down the hall.

“Not Yakov.” 

“I’ll keep you away from Yakov.” 

“Katsudon was looking for me.” 

“Okay, I’ll make sure Yuuri knows you’re safe.” 

“Thank you, Beka.” Yuri leaned into him, his head falling to his shoulder. 

 

On their way back to the banquet, they ran into a flustered Yuuri, Victor in tow. 

“Yurio! Where have you been? We were worried!” Yuuri’s eyes immediately flickered to their interlocked hands; he shot a look to Otabek. 

“You’re so embarrassing,  _mom_.” He giggled. “Katsu- _mom._ ” He dropped to the floor, laughing. Otabek and Victor both reached down to help him up at the same time, locking eyes for an awkward second before Victor backed off, letting Otabek help him. “I’m fine. I’m fine.” Yuri waved him off and proved just how fine he was by lifting himself off the floor. “I am okay.” Without thinking, he grabbed Otabek’s hand again. “Let’s go back to the party.” He pointed at Yuuri. “You owe me another dance-off.” 

Yuuri couldn’t resist _that_ challenge. Victor bent down to his ear, “Better start drinking, love.” 

**Author's Note:**

> My first posted work, be gentle.


End file.
